The Price of Peace
by IcyPanther
Summary: (SEQUEL) They may have escaped the arena but things back home are far from all right. Keith is struggling. Shiro is hiding. Lance is suffering violent flashbacks and she's having nightmares too. It's wrong. It's all wrong. Pidge hates it. She wants her space family back. Not this broken version of them. It looks like she's just going to have to fix it. And Lance is going to help.


**Timeline notes:** Set directly after _The Cost of Winning_ (read that first! This is its sequel!) _,_ which takes place at the tail end of season three.

 **Warnings:** None. Unless you count mentions to previous violence and killings, in which case, there you go.

 **If you enjoyed the fic please do leave a review at the end!**

 **xxx**

 **The Price of Peace**

 **xxx**

Pidge jolted awake with Lance's name on her lips.

She whirled her head to the side, heart racing and breath coming in short gasps, all of which came to a near stop as she spotted him, curled on his side just inches from her.

He was safe. He was okay.

They weren't there.

Deep breath.

Pidge sucked in a noisy one and then another, feeling her heartbeat slow as she gazed at Lance's slumbering form, although his sleep did not look peaceful. His brow was furrowed slightly and his lips were pulled down and she could see his eyes twitching underneath his eyelids.

Her gaze softened and she rolled across the spread of mattresses that covered Lance's bedroom floor, butting up against him and pressing her forehead against his chest, breathing in the cinnamon scent that followed Lance everywhere. She felt his breath hitch before it came out in a shaky shudder and then deepened into sleep.

A sad smile pulled up her lips and she tucked herself more firmly against him, offering comfort in the only way she could. On his other side she could hear Hunk's gentle snores, a calming, steady presence. She took in her own breath and willed it to match Hunk's.

For her, the nightmare ended as soon as she woke up and assured herself Lance was safe and they were not trapped in the arena. Her mind played cruel tricks on her in her sleep; changing her memories of their time there that two nights later were as vivid and real as though they had happened but hours before.

She was too late to stop the first alien from biting Lance in two.

Lance missed the rope and plummeted back into the arena where the bear creature ripped into him with a spray of blood.

The Galran officer reached the blaster first and it _worked_ and he shot Lance in the head.

Occasionally her nightmares relived her own experiences, particularly being swallowed by the giant worm creature and suffocating inside of it, but they always came back to Lance dying. She clung just a little tighter to his sleep shirt, taking comfort in the way his chest rose beneath her hands.

She still couldn't believe it had only been a two days since it all happened.

They had made it safely to Olkarion and Pidge had been able to get the communication systems online to reach out to their allies before they got shot down as they were in a clearly marked Galra battle cruiser. They had barely disembarked from the ship, Lance swaying on his feet and having been near silent during their flight, when the castle had appeared via wormhole.

There had been a brief exchange that Pidge could remember none of, save that Lance had passed out as soon as Hunk had pulled him into his arms and she'd only managed to gasp out, "Arena," before she too had succumbed to the sheer mental and physical exhaustion. She remembered Shiro's hollow echo of the word and that horror had followed her into unconsciousness.

She had awoken half a day later out from the cryo pod with Coran and Hunk standing by. Their expressions had been drawn and she had feared the worst; that Lance's injuries had been more severe than he'd shown – had the bite punctured something? Infection? – but a glance at the matching pod next to her showed Lance still in stasis and the levels reading normal.

Lance would make a full recovery, Coran had assured her. But she had sensed the unease still and had asked, uncharacteristically hesitant, what had happened and hated the look the two had exchanged. Hunk had eventually admitted that after they'd gone missing Keith and Shiro had gotten into a screaming match. A bad one that still hadn't been resolved. It was all he would say and Pidge's stomach had tightened. Because Keith and Shiro fighting? She had known there was some recent tension there but this? Those two? Actually fighting?

And then, when Pidge had said the arena – and here Hunk had paused, gripping her shoulders and eyes pleading for it to have been a mistake but he'd seen the knowing in her face and had crumpled in front of her, pulling her into a tight hug – it had only reignited the fight except that Shiro had retreated and locked himself in his room and hadn't yet come out despite Keith sitting outside it and still pleading hours later.

Pidge felt her heart break for the hundredth time in less than a day.

They were going to postpone a debrief until Lance was out of the pod, an estimated six varga from now, Coran said so it didn't need repeated twice. Pidge appreciated it and spent the remaining time, other than quick shower and a trip to her room to change out of the cryo-suit, sitting with Hunk outside Lance's pod. She felt that she should try and talk to Keith and Shiro, but… a glance at Lance's slack face and his unmoving form had kept her hostage in the infirmary. She couldn't leave him. Not until he came out and she could assure herself he was okay.

True to Coran's observations, Lance had come out just shy of six varga later, groggy and disoriented but he'd still pulled Pidge into a tight embrace, crying without a word, and hadn't made to let go until Hunk had gently pried him off so he could get changed, but then Lance had latched onto Hunk with renewed sobs and two sets of honey eyes had met each other over the dark head and Pidge had felt her own tears begin anew.

Pidge was pragmatic. It wasn't that killing those aliens hadn't horrified her, especially that first one and then the Galran officer. She would _never_ forget the sensation of her weapon spearing through flesh and bone and the death shudder at the other end. Never.

But she would never regret it. They had been the enemy, trying to kill her and Lance, and she could not afford to view them in shades of gray. They were black and she and Lance were white. They had attacked them, tried to kill them. Had they been the scared slaves that Voltron rescued sometimes she knew she'd be feeling more conflicted, but they had not been. They had been killers and beasts and she had done what had been needed. As Lance had said, they had won.

But Lance wasn't as cold-hearted as that. He was the opposite. He cared about _everyone._ He wanted to see the best in them. He'd been thrown into an impossible situation where it was literally kill or be killed. And Pidge had seen his resolve, his determination to protect her and how that had spurred him to turn from as innocent as one could be in this war to killer in a blink. When she closed her eyes she could still see him, face and hands smeared with different colored bloods and normally vibrant eyes dulled by what he'd done.

Lance had lived, yes. But something inside him had died in that arena. She knew she had played a role in that; being forced to kill herself to protect them both. She knew he hadn't wanted that. He'd wanted to protect her from having to dirty her own hands and the fact he had failed… Her hands trembled and she dug them tighter into Lance's shirt. Because Lance was like that. He wanted to shoulder all of the blame, the guilt, so no one else had to.

Even if it killed him.

Then there had been the debrief. She still winced. Lance had gotten dressed, cleaned the tears from his face and had shown up quiet but steady with Hunk at his side. Shiro had been cajoled from his room, but not by Keith, who was standing with shoulders rolled in and looking as small as Pidge.

It spoke volumes that even in his own despair Lance had gone straight to Keith and pulled him into an embrace. No words were spoken but Keith's knees had buckled and he'd clung so tight to Lance that the two of them had ended up on the floor. Pidge had nearly breathed a sigh of relief that things were going to be okay. Lance was going to be okay. They all were. There was going to be a big group hug and reassurances and Pidge was going to feel absolutely smothered with affection and she was going to be okay with it because right now she could really go for that and she knew Lance doubly so.

But it had all gone to hell.

Pidge knew Shiro hadn't meant for it to. She knew that anything related to the arena had to be hard to hear and stomach and think about. But when Lance had gone to Shiro, who had been standing stonily next to Allura, eyes shadowed, and quietly asked him if he was all right after he and Pidge had taken broken turns giving a summary of what had happened in the arena and their subsequent escape, whatever lid Shiro had been holding on his simmering emotions had exploded.

Pidge couldn't quite recall all that was said. But Shiro had shouted, voice breaking, that no, he wasn't all right. Two of his team members had been forced to fight, to kill, all because of a mission that should have never been authorized. Lance had tried then to put a calming hand on Shiro's shoulder and had it thrown off. No one could miss the flash of hurt on his face at the action. No one except Shiro, so caught up in his own grief and anger.

Shiro had railed then at Keith, no doubt a flash to their earlier argument, that they should have never attempted such a mission, that Shiro _knew_ it had been too dangerous. Keith had taken it quietly, head bowed and hands clenched at his sides, no doubt wanting to avoid another screaming match.

But Lance hadn't stood for that. Pidge had seen him swallow back his words the first time when Shiro had insisted they go down a new path and Pidge hated that she had ever forced Lance to follow her. If they'd just listened to Keith, to the original plan, _all_ of this could have been avoided. So Lance had told Shiro that the plan had been a good one; that they'd taken a calculated risk and unforeseen circumstances had caused this. Lance didn't say once that it had been Shiro's words that had sent them literally down the wrong path, but Shiro had read between the lines.

He'd yelled at Lance, legit raised voice and everything, and demanded to know if Lance was undermining him as leader.

And Lance.

Oh, Pidge clenched her eyes closed.

Lance had quietly told Shiro that Keith was their leader now, not Shiro.

And Shiro…

He had just deflated. All the fight gone out of him in one breath. He'd laughed, a hollow sound. Right, he'd said. Keith was Voltron's leader now. Black had chosen _him._ And Shiro… Shiro no longer had a place here.

He'd retreated from the bridge then, as close to running away as he could manage, and Allura had held Lance back while Coran had checked Keith, both advising that Shiro needed some time. Allura had then wrapped Lance into a tight hug and pulled Pidge in a moment later, whispering her own apologies for what they had suffered but that she was so, so proud of them for what they had done.

They'd learned then that had they not instigated their own escape… well, they wouldn't have made it out alive. The team had frantically been trying to locate them but their armor had been offline and there were thousands of places they could have been moved to.

In their wildest guesses though Allura had quietly admitted they never would have thought to look towards the arena. It was a sobering and distressing thought that their lives were considered so disposable by the Empire. They would need to be even more careful going forward, Allura had said. No more solo or pair missions on the ground. It was too dangerous. Even Keith hadn't protested, although Pidge thought he might have been a little shell-shocked to do so.

They'd had the group hug then as Pidge had imagined, but it hadn't been the same. Keith's eyes had been overbright, Lance's head bowed with guilt and pain, and even Coran hadn't been able to summon up forced joviality, merely wrapping Lance and Keith into an embrace and giving them tight squeezes. It had been a hug of desperate people trying to hold together while they all knew they were falling apart. It wasn't complete, not without Shiro, without the feeling of family that Pidge had apparently been taking for granted because now that it was gone she felt lost.

This wasn't right.

Nothing about it was right.

They'd broken apart then all off in their own directions. Lance had tried to reach out to Keith but the smaller boy had muttered something about the training deck and taken off. So it was just the original Garrison trio then and Hunk had ushered them both into the kitchen, plying them with warm stew and some cookies he'd baked the other day.

It was an unspoken consensus that they would all be having a sleepover, even though Pidge had never had one. But Hunk dragged her mattress into Lance's room and then pulled Lance's from the bed and they'd arranged themselves with Lance in the middle. Pidge had loaded up one of the three movies they owned on her laptop to give them something to concentrate on as Lance had quietly said he didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Pidge knew he should. She could see how badly he was still hurting, but he wouldn't. Not when it had provoked such a reaction out of Shiro. Not when he was trying to put on a brave face and pretend to be strong and all right because they were in the middle of a war and could not afford to fall apart. The fact he wouldn't even let himself go when it was just herself and Hunk worried her more than it should because as much as Lance wore his heart on his sleeve there was a lot that he kept hidden.

But she understood not wanting to talk about it. She didn't want to think about it any more than she had to. It had happened. It was over.

Still, somehow during the course of the movie she'd migrated to Lance's side and he had nearly wound up in Hunk's lap, who wrapped large hands about both Lance and tugged Pidge in closer. He hadn't cried but she'd sensed the tension holding his frame up slowly dissolve. He was asleep before Hercules even managed to save Meg from hell. Pidge was grateful; there'd been enough self-sacrifice for the day.

But a calm night was not meant to be. Lance had awoken crying and gasping halfway through the night and been violently sick a moment later. Pidge had taken on the task of cleaning that up while Hunk had cleaned up Lance and then cuddled him in his arms as though he could shield him from the nightmares. Pidge had almost been thankful as it had jolted her from her own nightmares. They kept that scary pattern up twice more.

The next morning Lance put on a smile and a brave face and said he was fine. The day was theirs as Shiro had holed himself up once more in his room and Pidge did not feel brave enough, not yet, to try knocking and Hunk had purposely steered Lance away, his own face a thin line. Pidge knew it took a lot to really anger Hunk and while this wasn't quite anger he was hurt on behalf of Lance and at the moment Shiro was the root cause of it.

Allura and Coran had been busy with the Coalition and Keith had vanished like a shadow somewhere within the castle. They'd looked but if Keith didn't want to be found then he wouldn't be. Lance had kept up the search longer than any of them, demanding, voice breaking, for Keith to come out but he was shouting to empty air.

Pidge understood. Keith was like her. He preferred to lick his wounds in peace, hide away when he was hurting. And right now he was hurting. Despite the fact it had been a solid plan he was likely blaming himself because Shiro had said it, even if Shiro was saying a lot of things he normally wouldn't have. Hunk left a hot plate out for Keith at lunch and they were all slightly reassured when they came back for dinner and it had been cleaned with a small note of thanks on it. No mice helping themselves, at least.

And now here they were, night two. Lance had already awoken once, blindly thrashing out and hadn't calmed until he'd located Pidge. His face had been stained with tears and he'd shook, holding her. He'd admitted in broken whispers that Pidge only half-caught as many of them were in Spanish, that he'd thought she'd died; that he hadn't gotten to her in time.

Comforting was not her strong suit but she'd returned the hug, rubbing his back like she'd seen Hunk do, and murmuring that they were both safe, that they'd saved each other. Eventually he'd fallen asleep but apparently his nightmares had carried over to her because now she was up from her own although it had dissipated at finding him as safe as she'd assured him they were.

They needed to talk to Shiro, she decided then and there. This wasn't a problem that was going to go away anytime soon but having his support, his understanding without the anger and the jabs, was what they, what Lance and Keith especially, needed. They had to be a team again, a family. Not this broken version of one.

Pidge snuggled back down, determined.

She was going to fix this. She was going to fix her family.

xxx

Lance felt sick. This… this had to be a joke, right?

But Allura looked serious as she stood there, armed with her own training sword. Apparently just over a day and a half had been enough downtime in the Altean princess' mind and Lance supposed she had a point. They were fighting a war. They needed to keep up on their training, especially in the few days where they weren't actively engaged in battle or performing Coalition missions and so she'd roused them before breakfast and into the training room in full armor for a lesson.

Just… this?

"Recent events have shown that we all need to be better for all types of combat," Allura said, twirling her sword. "We no longer have the luxury of knowing what situation we may find ourselves in. Other than Keith, Shiro and myself," her voice wavered a bit on Shiro's name, as he still had yet to exit his room, "we do not have enough close combat knowledge. We must seek to correct this."

"Um, Allura," Hunk raised a hand and was met with a narrowed jewel stare that dared for someone to argue with her. Lance felt the breath whoosh out of him as Hunk squared his shoulders, one arm wrapped about Lance's own, and continued on. "I think this might be a bit soon."

Allura shook her head and her gaze drifted from Pidge to Lance, locking onto his with such an intensity that Lance ended up ducking his head. "I understand your concern, Hunk, but the best way to overcome a fear is to face it had on. That is how it is done on Altea. _Everyone_ will do this."

She stalked off to the side, calling for them to grab their own training swords from the bin, even Keith.

"Hey," Hunk said gently and Lance blinked, not sure when Hunk had moved from his side to in front of him. "You okay?"

"I…"

Was he? Lance's hands trembled at the thought of holding a sword again. Of… Of…

He could feel phantom blood splatter, hot and thick, dash across his face, his chest, dripping down his hands while vacant eyes—

"Lance!" Hunk's tone was sharper than normal and Lance jerked back to present, feeling his cheeks flush a moment later. "You don't need to do this, _hermano,"_ Hunk said gently.

Lance shook his head. "No. You heard Allura. She's… she's right."

"Lance…"

He forced himself to meet Hunk's warm, concerned gaze. "It's okay. Really. It's… it's just training dummies, right?"

"Right," Hunk echoed back, not sounding convinced but he stepped aside and joined Lance in walking to the bin, where Pidge was holding her sword like it was a snake. Only Keith had his calmly in hand but he too seemed unsettled.

Lance reached in and plucked one out before he could overthink it. It was lighter than the one in the arena, and clean. No blood here. His stomach clenched and he lowered it to his side, not wanting to look at it.

He felt more than saw Keith come up next to him while Hunk went over to Pidge, placing a calming hand on her shoulder and offering the reassurance Lance couldn't right now himself.

"You don't have to do this." Keith kept his face front, face impassive but the cadence was kind. Kinder than Lance was used to.

"Don't I though?" Lance asked, not able to hide the bitterness completely. "It's fine," he added quickly. "Besides," he turned and mustered up a smirk, "it means you get to learn shooting. Betcha can't hit the broadside of a spaceship, samurai."

But Keith did not rise to the taunt and solemn purple eyes met his.

"It's fine," Lance repeated, quieter.

Keith nodded. "Just say the word though and it's over. Got it?"

Lance matched his nod and made to step towards where Allura was tapping her foot.

"And… Lance?" Keith shot a hand out and wrapped it tightly about Lance's upper arm, head bowed. "I'm… I'm glad you're here. And okay. And… and thank you. For…for…" his words became a near whisper. "For what you said."

Lance turned and placed his own free hand opposite on Keith's arm. "You are a good leader, Keith," he said quietly, sincerely. "I'm… I'm if I caused trouble between you and Shiro. I didn't—"

"That's not your fault," Keith interjected, voice still pitched low. "Shiro, he…" he cast his gaze to the side. "He's been different since he came back. Since Black didn't… It's not your fault," he repeated. "He just…"

"You don't need to make excuses," Lance murmured. "I'll talk to him, all right?"

"You don't—"

"I do," Lance interrupted this time. "Please. Let me try. He cares, Keith. He cares a lot about you and I think… I think he just worries. You know?"

Although Lance knew it was more than that. He'd seen the way Shiro had cut down Keith's plans, his opinions, had backseat led when they did go on missions. Not being in the literal pilot's seat was turning Shiro overprotective and judgmental, which was manifesting itself in his harsher words. Lance didn't think he saw how he was hurting Keith.

No. This talk was long overdue and now, after the arena – Lance shuddered, shoving the memories back into the recesses of his mind – it was needed more than ever. Shiro had always had demons, had suffered from his time at the hands of the Galra. But it was getting worse and he was hurting his team. Hurting Keith, who Lance knew looked to Shiro as an older brother.

He'd let it go on for far too long. He was the Red Paladin now, the right hand of Voltron. And Shiro was going to listen to him whether he wanted to or not.

Resolve burned bright but it was extinguished near immediately as Allura shouted for him and Keith to join the rest of them and the sword in his hand became a lead weight. He sucked in a harsh breath though, gave Keith's arm one last squeeze, and went to join the rest.

Allura was right, no matter how callous her methods might be. It would be good for them all to be semi cross-trained and the only way to get past the memories of the arena would be to replace them with other ones. Besides, if he learned proper technique rather than the wild, desperate swings he had enacted previously hopefully he could banish them and their memories away forever.

"We will begin with a basic parry strike," Allura said, not commenting on the delay. "Keith, you will be with me for a sparring match after we demonstrate the proper technique. Repetition is key to good form, understand? There will be no rushing this."

Her eyes met Lance's with a softer look and he managed a small smile and nod. Allura wouldn't take back her words, she was too proud and she was ultimately correct, but she was capable of acknowledging that she wasn't entirely in the right. Just simple parry strikes against the dummy? He could handle that.

Allura had brought three gladiator bots down to act as their opponents, but all of them were in stationary mode and had been left with the right hand gripping a sword and raised up to adjust for their various height levels. It brought a real smile to Lance's face to see Pidge scowl at hers, the gladiator actually bent at the knee.

He could do this.

"Obviously this is not an accurate representation for what you can expected on the field of battle," Allura said, amusement coloring her tone at Pidge's cross expression, "but it will do while you get used to the strike. Now, watch."

She walked up to Hunk's gladiator and positioned her feet and then lunged forward, striking her sword with a dull clang on the robot's and then repeated it several more times.

"And now you try," she instructed. "Keith, assist me, please."

Lance took a deep breath and stepped up to his own gladiator. He raised the sword. It was just a dummy. In training. For practice.

He stepped forward and struck.

The sword reverberated in his hands, just as it had against the scaled arm of the first opponent and Lance instinctively braced for the follow up hit, already wincing and hearing the screams of the crowd echoing.

None came.

He opened his eyes, not sure when he'd closed them, breath coming in harder gasps than the situation warranted. He stared at the impassive gladiator and heard his sword clatter from his suddenly frozen grip as its face morphed into the steely gaze of the hardened warrior.

The gaze he'd thrust his sword through.

Pidge was at his side a moment later, arms thrown about him and pressing her face into his side and Hunk a second more, pulling them both into his arms.

"I'm okay," Lance gasped, torn between embarrassment and the cold fear he couldn't quite shake. "I'm okay."

"Lance," Keith said, sharp worry on the word and it was that tone that had Lance jerking his head up. Allura was hovering beyond him, looking both confused and a mite frustrated. The shame took the full place of the fear.

"I'm okay," he protested, "I can do this. I can."

He had to.

Hunk stepped away first, noting the resolve. Pidge gave him one last squeeze before she whispered, "You've got this," and made her way back to her own dummy.

Allura went back with Pidge to watch her strikes and Hunk slowly made his way to his own, shooting nervous glances at Lance. But Keith remained at his side and apparently that was enough to reassure Hunk as he refocused on his own dummy.

"I told you—"

"I know," Lance bit out, picking up the sword from the ground with a frustrated sweep. "I know, Keith. _Thank you_ for that observation. I didn't think I'd go to pieces from one swing all right? Happy now?"

"No," Keith said bluntly. "I'm not happy."

Lance looked over to retort that Keith was never happy, anger and shame at himself pushing too close to the surface for him to check his words, but Keith's gaze, while narrowed, was not angry.

"I'm concerned," Keith said before Lance could give voice to his own feelings and just like that the anger disappeared. "Lance…" A hand tentatively landed on his shoulder. "You're hurting yourself."

It was a surprising astute observation from the normally very socially awkward mullet that Lance felt himself brought up short, too surprised to deny it.

"No more training for you today," Keith decided.

"Keith, no," Lance weakly objected. "I _have_ to." He couldn't bear to see the disappointment in Allura's face, not when just the other day she'd said how proud she was of him and Pidge. He couldn't let her down. He couldn't let himself down. And if he couldn't even swing a sword then he had already lost.

"One more time," Keith acquiesced. And he folded his arms, clearly intending to watch Lance the entire time.

Lance did his best to ignore the intense look and put his sights back on the gladiator bot. "Widen your stance," Keith called out behind him and Lance did so, appreciating both the feedback and the slight distraction. "Arm higher too."

Only once Keith stopped nitpicking his form did Lance proceed forward with the strike, feeling the impact again but this time he forced his eyes to remain open and remained firmly planted in the training room.

He stepped back with a small, tight grin that Keith returned. "And again."

After nearly ten strikes Keith was apparently satisfied and went over to Pidge while Allura was with Hunk. A few minutes later the two trained swordsmasters migrated over to a more open spot of the training room and the sound of their clashing weapons echoed about the room. Lance tried his best to ignore it.

There was a counter on the dummy registering every strike. Allura said she wanted them to hit a minimum of three hundred. After thirty Lance felt his arms already growing shaky, which only showed him how out of shape he really was for this type of combat.

Still, after he forced himself to hit one hundred he stepped back for a break, sweat pouring down his face and he debated removing his armor. A glance over showed that Pidge had already done so, just in her black undersuit now and also on break, leaning against the wall and sucking from a water pouch.

He felt a twinge of envy towards her, that the exercise wasn't causing her to remember their time in the arena. But even when they had been there Pidge had held it together better. She had killed that first alien after all and yet it had been him in numb shock, sitting there while she argued with the guard.

Pidge was so, so much stronger than him and he hated that he wasn't. Not strong enough to prevent her from having to kill with her small hands.

He could still see blue blood covering them if he stared long enough.

"Hey," she greeted quietly, breaking him from his musings and she pushed a water pouch in his direction.

He accepted it with a tired nod, tilting his head back on the wall and wondered if it would ever end.

"-ance? Hey." A elbow jostled him slightly and Lance startled to full standing, realizing Pidge had been trying to get his attention. He cast a raised eyebrow, going for nonchalance.

It didn't work and Pidge's eyes narrowed with concern. "You're pale," she observed.

"Just tired," Lance admitted, putting the pouch aside and beginning to strip his armor off, figuring he could at least help that exhaustion somewhat. "How're you holding up?"

"Over halfway done," Pidge shrugged. "My arms are killing me though."

"You and me both," Lance groaned, pulling a small smile from her. "And I'm only a third."

"Slow poke," she teased, nudging him with her elbow. "Come on. Let's hurry and finish and then force Hunk to bake us more cookies." As one they glanced towards their large friend, whose counter displayed two hundred and forty-six. Lance whistled although Hunk didn't react, concentration solely on his gladiator bot.

Lance shoved off the wall with a put upon sigh that was only half fake. He didn't want to do this anymore, but he did have to admit with every successful strike he made he was distancing himself from what had happened. That was good. He needed to put it behind him. He'd already come to terms that he would do _anything_ to protect his family, even if that meant killing, and this was just a step in moving past it.

Strike one hundred and one was the same as the previous ninety-nine and Lance let out a breath as he repositioned for the next. He could do this.

Just one more strike.

And again.

And again.

He was nearing two-hundred when the loud voice of Coran sounded over the intercom calling for Allura and his strike swung high in surprise.

The head of the gladiator hit the ground with a loud clatter, but it was no longer the gladiator. It was the head of the robobeast, green ichor flying as the head rolled on the sand, and its body, long neck severed, twitched in its death throes. The smell of blood was overwhelming, the scream of the crowd deafening and all Lance could do was look at the head, blank eyes staring back at him in silent judgment.

He vomited and the stench made him retch again as it splattered into the gore-filled sand. Lance felt himself falling but suddenly hands and arms were there, wrapping tightly about him and lowering him gently to his knees and a murmur sounded above the crowds boos at his display of weakness.

Something was tapping his cheek then and he flinched away at it before it came back more insistent but with a caress. He leaned into it that time and the murmuring became louder, overtaking the screaming.

"Lance, _estás bien,_ you're here in the castle. It's okay. Please, _hermano, por favor._ Come on, you're okay."

Lance's eyes refocused and the arena faded to be replaced with Pidge kneeling in front of him, her hands the ones on his face and Hunk the arms wrapped about him and pressing him to his chest and the source of the murmuring.

"Lance," Pidge breathed, seeing the moment his eyes cleared from the catatonic state.

"P-Pidge?" he rasped, tasting bile on his tongue. "Wh-what…?"

"That's enough," he heard Keith say, voice sharp and Allura's softer tones murmur something he didn't catch. There was a slender hand then on the other side of his face and Lance traced it back to Allura, who looked at him with sad eyes.

"I am so sorry," she whispered. She rubbed her thumb against his jaw before she straightened and hurried away to whatever summons Coran had had.

Lance blinked after her.

Keith took her place although he kept his hands at his sides. "No more sword training," he said, voice blank but at the same time full of something Lance couldn't quite identify. His eyes darted up. "Hunk?"

"I've got him," Hunk said quietly. "Go. Allura needs you." Keith gave a nod, raised a hand as though he wanted to do something with it, but then clutched it back to him and hurried off.

"Come on, _hermano,"_ Hunk said gently, moving to standing and pulling Lance with him. His legs trembled beneath him and without hesitation Hunk scooped him fully into his arms and Lance choked out a sob he didn't fully understand.

" _Lo siento,"_ Lance whispered, voice thick. He was pathetic. It was coming back now; freaking out from beheading a robot. He'd taken them out thousands of times before with headshots, how was this any different?

"Don't apologize," Pidge said, walking alongside them as they exited the training room, her hand wrapped around one of Lance's dangling legs.

Lance just pressed his face against Hunk's chest plate, wishing he could just disappear.

Hunk brought him to his bedroom, still strewn with mattresses that Lance wasn't sure he ever wanted to leave, and deposited him gently on his bed. Pidge fetched a glass of water and the bowl that Hunk had procured the first night and Lance rinsed out his mouth before draining it.

"Is Allura mad?" Lance asked, voice small.

"Mad?" Pidge repeated with a snort. "At herself, hopefully."

"Pidge," Hunk shushed. To Lance he said softer, "No, she's not. She's worried, same as the rest of us."

"Not worried enough," Pidge grumped, curling up on the bed next to Lance and resting her head on his lap. He appreciated the distraction, tangling his fingers in her short hair and wincing at the knots. "We should never have been training with swords. Not for a long while."

"It's not her fault," Lance said quietly, finger-combing Pidge's hair. "I just…" He blinked back sudden hot tears. "Pidge, you're not… but I…"

"You think the arena wasn't upsetting me too?" she rolled, squashing his hand and fixing him with a sharp stare.

"N-no, that isn't—"

Her gaze softened. "Lance. I know. For me…" she swallowed. "For me seeing you hurt was the worst part. For thinking I was too late to save you. The rest of it? It's like the rest of life. Details and facts that I can compartmentalize. It doesn't," she poked a finger into his chest, "mean I'm not still scared or terrified. I just literally can't let myself think about it so I don't. If I thought about all the things out there – what Matt could be going thorough, my dad, what I've done when we blow up those ships and bases – I would never get out of bed."

She took a deep breath and continued. "I don't regret killing them. Not when they were trying to kill us. Not if it meant protecting you. But you…" Her finger traced over his heart. "Your heart is too big for this universe, Lance. That's not a bad thing. It's good. We need that. It just means…" her hand splayed out over it. "It means you hurt more."

"Pidge…" He didn't know what to say, feeling more tears prick his eyes.

"She's right, _hermano,"_ Hunk murmured, joining them on the bed and wrapping an arm about Lance's shoulders. "Your big heart is a _beautiful_ thing and we never want you to change. It's what makes you you. And I know you want to protect us. Protect everyone. But Lance… you _can't._ You can't protect everyone from everything no matter how much you want to."

And Lance knew that. He did. But…

"Let us protect _you,"_ Hunk squeezed his shoulders. "Please, _hermano._ You don't have to take on the world. We don't want you to. We just want you to be happy."

Lance sniffled.

"Protecting someone goes both ways," Pidge said quietly. "Like when we were there. I wouldn't have made it out without you, Lance. And you… you wouldn't have without me. We protected each other. I… I know you didn't want me to have to kill. Believe me, I didn't like it either. But I _would_ do it again to protect you from having to, Lance."

Lance's shoulders were shaking now and Pidge sat up to lean against him instead, wrapping one of his hands in her own while Hunk took his other.

"Okay?" she whispered. "We're here as much as you are for us. Please. Let us be."

Lance mumbled something then against her hair where he'd buried his face.

"What?" she asked.

"Shiro," he mumbled, more audible. "I… I need to talk to him."

"Lance," Hunk said carefully, "now might not be the best time."

"No," he shook his head. "No. I need to talk to him."

"Then I'm coming too," Pidge said, squaring her shoulders. "And no buts," she said as Lance opened his mouth. "I'm coming and that's that."

Hunk pursed his lips but eventually sighed. "You know best with stuff like this." He squeezed Lance's shoulder. "Bring him back to us, all right?"

"We're not leaving without him," Lance said, the words filling him with a strength that had been robbed just minutes ago. Yes. He was going to make things right.

Pidge took his hand with a small, determined smile. "Let's go fix our family."

Their quest was blocked a few minutes later by Shiro's locked bedroom door.

"Shiro?" Lance knocked lightly on it.

No answer.

"Shiro, we need to talk to you," he tried again.

Still quiet.

"Shiro, I am not above hacking it open," Pidge volunteered, rapping her fist sharply on it. "Open up or we're coming in with force."

A few ticks later there was the dull sound of a click and Pidge sent Lance a triumphant grin. The door slid open as she leaned forward and they stepped into the immaculate room, save for the hunched figure settling himself back on the floor with the blanket from his bed wrapped around his shoulders.

He looked awful. Bags under his eyes, hair disheveled and pale in a way that had nothing to do with the all the lights save the emergency ones in the corners of the room being shut off. He'd drawn his knees up to his chest and was resting his head upon them, looking utterly defeated.

This was not Shiro.

Pidge seemed to be getting the same feeling and her fire from earlier dissipated. Lance took a tentative step in and then another. They couldn't back down. Shiro needed them. More than he realized.

"You shouldn't be here," Shiro said, voice a hoarse rasp.

"Gonna disagree with you there," Lance slid down next to Shiro. "I think we're exactly where we need to be."

"You look like shit," and Pidge had found her voice again, crossing to sit on Shiro's other side.

Shiro, to their delight, let out a dry laugh. "Thanks, Pidge. That's very kind of you." A tick later. "And language, please."

"Like hell," she grinned and pulled another quieter chuckle from their old leader.

"Are you all right?" Lance asked quieter.

"I should be asking you that." Shiro finally looked up from his knees and there was such guilt swimming in his eyes that Lance found his own throat locked.

"We understand," Lance said, carefully placing a hand on Shiro's shoulder and relieved when this time it wasn't shrugged away. "We do, Shiro. More… more than you probably wish we did."

"You should have never been there," he whispered, eyes clenching shut but not before a tear had made its way down his face. "I… I messed up. Not Keith. Me. I put you there."

"You did not," Pidge retorted, but her tone pitched low. "The Galrans did, Shiro. Not you. Sure, you made a call but guess what? I followed it. Mistakes all around but that doesn't mean _you_ are responsible."

"You were forced to fight. To kill," his voice broke. "And I… I _couldn't_ …. I'm so sorry. I couldn't face it. I couldn't face you."

Pidge pressed against Shiro, wrapping her hands about his flesh arm and resting her head against it. "We were there for a few hours, Shiro. You… you were there for a year."

"You don't need to apologize for that," Lance added gently. "Believe me on that. I… I can't even imagine how horrible those memories are for you."

"What I remember." The admission was as close as either of them had come to Shiro talking about his own time in the arena and they exchanged a look over the bowed black and white head. "I try not to," he continued. "I don't like to think about it. And when I do…" he shook his head. "My head hurts. Aches. More than it normally does so I… I don't.

"And… and when I found out you had ended up there. Because of me," a sob shook Shiro's shoulders. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Shiro," Lance murmured, lying his head now on Shiro's other shoulder. "No. Please. Stop apologizing."

"You should be the last person giving that advice," Pidge snarked quietly and it brought a wet laugh from Shiro and a sheepish shrug from Lance. "But Shiro, Lance is right. Stop. We're not mad at you. We… we understand. God, I wish we didn't but we do. And… and if you ever want to talk about what happened there then we're here for you."

"All of us are," Lance said softly. "We're a family right?"

"Family," Shiro repeated, a slight wince to his expression.

"You don't need to apologize to us," Lance continued. "But I do think you owe someone else an apology."

"Keith." The name was barely a breath.

"Yes," Lance nodded. "Shiro, look." He took a deep breath. Time to have that talk. "I know you mean well and you worry. But Keith _is_ a good leader. He's not you, but we don't want him to be. He's doing fine as he is, learning as he goes. You're the one who told him to be leader in your place and now that he is you need to step back and let him be one."

"I've been horrible, haven't I?"

Lance made to go with a more neutral "maybe" while Pidge was more blunt and said "yes," with zero holdback.

"He looks up to you," Lance said. "We all do. Even if you're not the Black Paladin you're still a leader, Shiro. But… but what you have been doing isn't leading. You're hurting everyone. Keith especially."

And maybe that had been a blunt based on Shiro's wince, but it needed said. Lance was done taking a backseat and watching Keith deflate, watch the rest of the team waffle between who to follow and then feel like they were being forced to pick sides. It ended now.

"You're right," Shiro said, and there was a note of strength there now. He picked his head up and a fire lit his charcoal eyes. "You're right. I need to fix this. But first…"

He pulled his arms free of his knees and encircled them around both Pidge and Lance, pulling them in close. "Thank you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of each head and both younger Paladins felt pleased flushes steal across their faces. "And… and the same offer to you. If you want to talk about what happened there, in the arena," he swallowed thickly, "I'll be here. I'll listen."

" _Gracias_ , Shiro," Lance said just as quietly and Pidge echoed his thanks.

Lance's heart felt lighter, the burden over his shoulders gone. Based on Pidge's peaceful smile she felt the same. Things were right in the world again with everyone on the same side. And… he felt better from talking with Shiro. With Hunk and Pidge. Lance had no doubts his nightmares still weren't over, but he didn't feel like they would control him as they had.

"Where's Keith?" Shiro asked, straightening to his feet and offering hands down to both of them, hauling them up with no apparent effort.

"Probably on the bridge," Pidge shrugged. "He and Allura got called there for some Blade stuff a bit ago."

"We'll come with you," Lance said, squeezing Shiro's hand that he hadn't yet let go and Pidge was holding tight to his other one.

"I should probably get changed," Shiro said, glancing down at his mused and wrinkly top.

"We didn't and we've been in training and sweating and are super gross," Pidge said, tugging at his prosthetic even though she couldn't budge him. "And you just cuddled us and everything. How does that make you feel?"

"Lucky," Shiro said honestly, giving their hands squeezes. "And fine, a little gross."

Pidge laughed brightly.

They made their way to the bridge in a companionable silence and as they'd suspected Keith, Allura and Coran were there, but Hunk had joined them as well with a tray of cookies and drinks. He was the first one to spot them, the rest clustered around a table with a hologram displayed and shot a mega-watt grin.

Shiro returned a smaller version of it but his eyes were only for Keith. Lance and Pidge released their hands and watched as Shiro made his way to the small congregation and cleared his throat. He said something, too low for them to catch, but Keith stepped away with him to the far side of the room. Coran and Allura exchanged a knowing look while Hunk sidled up to fellow Paladins.

"You look happier," he said lightly, slinging an arm about Lance's shoulders and settling a hand atop Pidge's hair with a ruffle that she didn't even try to shake off.

"I feel it," Lance replied, although his eyes were focused on the pair, Shiro doing all the talking and inch by inch Keith's posture going from tense defensive to more relaxed. It culminated a near minute later as Shiro made to lean in for a hug and then drew back, as though thinking it was too much, and Keith instead launched himself at Shiro, arms wrapping about him tightly.

"Aww," Hunk sniffled as Shiro returned it, dropping a kiss to the dark head. "That's beautiful. But you know what would be even better? If all of us were a part of it."

Coran seemed to have the same sentiments as he grabbed hold of Allura while Hunk corralled his two shorter, unprotesting friends, towards the other pair.

Pidge felt another smile being pulled to her face as the group hug was instigated, squashed up against Keith and Lance with Allura hugging her from behind. _This_ was the group hug she had wanted earlier. Next to her Lance's eyes were bright but a soft, content smile filled his face and Keith had that shy grin as Coran ruffled his and Hunk's hair. She felt peace then, a sensation of light and love that made her just want to laugh with joy.

Everything was right again.

Lance caught her eye and he tugged her even more to his side.

"We won," he said, quietly so only she heard it.

"We won," she repeated, matching his smile.

And this time she felt like they really had.

xxx

 **Author's Notes:**

Everyone thank the wonderful Lizzy for commissioning a sequel to her earlier commissioned fic _The Cost of Winning_ as she, like many of you, wanted a recovery arc. This took a bit of a sideways detour to get to the finale of a nice big comforting group hug, but given the original prompt of the tension between Keith and Shiro I needed to address that. And despite the difficulty Kuron gave me I really love how this all came full circle and we did get that happy ending. Love it and hope you do too, Lizzy!

Please, please please do leave a comment if you too enjoyed the story. Favorite line, scene, overall impression… please give the author some love! _Gracias!_


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